The Road to Ratenburg

by Joy Cowley

  But I digress, dear friend. There we were, crouched under a car, staring at the bright lights of a building full of humming beans. Almost immediately, we felt a trembling in the concrete beneath us. My heart stopped, remembering yesterday, and Roger squeaked, “Bombs!” But as the ground-shake grew into noise, we realised it was an approaching train. We heard the blast of its whistle at the crossings and the engine came slowly into the station. I crept forward until I could see it, a long row of lights in carriage windows. Humming beans flocked to it. The train was like a great snake that devoured a crowd and then slithered away.

  Now the sky was getting light. We needed to find a hiding place before sun-up. Roger said, “There’s long grass on the other side of the tracks.”

  “No,” said Retsina. “It’s much safer under the station.”

  “How do we get there, Mama?” asked Delta.

  He had a point. With more humming beans arriving for the next train, we could not stroll casually about the place in growing daylight.

  My wife smiled. “I know a way in. Follow me.”

  She led us around the perimeter of the car park, where we were almost hidden by weeds and paper rubbish. In one corner, near the platform, was a drain with wide gratings, and, inside the drain, a plastic pipe. “That pipe goes under the train station,” she said.

  “You’re squeaking mad!” cried Roger. “Do you know how many rats have been drowned trying to negotiate a water pipe? Shiver me timbers! Are you trying to put us all at risk?”

  She looked coldly at him. “This pipe is always dry.” Then she gathered our ratlets around her and explained. “In the train stations there are poo and pee rooms for humming beans, who call them bathrooms. Afterwards, they wash their paws in big white dishes, but sometimes the dishes overflow, so there are drains in the floor to take away the water.”

  “And this is the drain pipe,” said Delta. “The question is, how often do the dishes overflow?”

  “Hardly ever. If they did, the water would go under the station. That’s because the Railway rats have chewed off the joint in the drain pipe. This part is always dry. The Railway rats have made it the main road to their dens.”

  I stared at her. My Retsina is a rat full of surprises. “How do you know all this?”

  She put her cheek against mine. “Trust me, my dear Spinnaker.” With that, she swung herself between the bars of the grating and held out her paws to catch our little ones.

  The pipe was dark and long, and a faint smell of foreign rats mixed with the warmth of our breath. The sound of claws on the plastic was so loud that I guessed the Railway rats would hear us coming. If Roger was right, and the cousins were hostile, we could be in grave trouble at the other end. I wished I had been first in line, and not Retsina, who was proceeding at such a pace that she was clearly unaware of danger. Her information regarding the chewed-off joint in the pipe was correct. The last length of plastic, hanging loose under the station, swayed as we went through. I saw a circle of dull grey. Beta, in front of me, dropped over the edge and then I was looking at the basement beneath the station. It covered a large area. There were small ventilation grilles around the outside walls, so there was some light in the place, and I saw rats, dozens of them. They looked at us with eyes that were far from friendly.

  Retsina had our ratlets around her and was speaking to a big rat with grey whiskers. “I want to talk to Signal,” she said.

  “Signal ain’t here,” the grey whiskers replied. “You shouldn’t be here, either. You know what we do to burglars? We bite their blinkin’ tails off.”

  At that, I jumped down from the pipe and stood in front of Retsina. “You try it, you old grey mongrel, and it’ll be the last thing you do!”

  Retsina pushed me aside. “It’s all right, Spinnaker.” She stepped towards the big rat. “You don’t mean any of it, do you, Shunter?”

  He peered at her. “Who told you my name?”

  “I have to talk to Signal,” she said. “When will he return?”

  The old rat’s mouth quivered as he tried to remember. “You—you—”

  “That’s right.” She smiled. “I’m Retsina. This is my husband, Spinnaker, and these are our young—Beta, Delta, Gamma and Alpha.”

  He grunted. “You gave your kids weird names.”

  “Greek,” she said.

  “Oh yeah, I got it now. You’re the furry little thing from the Acropolis restaurant. You’ve changed.”

  “So have you, Shunter. I’ll ask you again, when will Signal be back?”

  “Dunno. He’s out on a bin raid. What do you want to see him for?”

  “We’re taking our family to Ratenburg. Signal always said the best way to start was by train.”

  There was a movement and a murmuring among the Railway rats, and I sensed a change in the way they regarded us. I felt it appropriate to offer greetings.

  “We don’t wish to disturb you,” I said politely, “but we do need shelter until nightfall. Yesterday we were made homeless when our building was destroyed by an explosion.”

  Again, the rats shifted and squeaked, and Shunter said, “We heard about that. Your name’s Spinnaker—you were a Ship rat then?”

  “My father was. He came from a long line of the marine clan.”

  “Me too!” cried a voice behind me, and Jolly Roger jumped down from the pipe. He had been waiting to see what kind of reception we got, and if there had been a fight, I’m sure he would have turned tail and fled back down the pipe. Now he stood beside me and announced, “I’m Roger. I’m a friend.”

  “Ship communication?” asked Shunter.

  Jolly Roger looked blank.

  “Roger as in message finished, over and out,” said Shunter.

  “Oh. Oh, yeah. Right.”

  Shunter turned to the other rats. “We’re all transport related, so what do you think? I say we offer them hospitality until nightfall.”

  Murmurs of agreement went through the colony, and everyone relaxed. Shunter took us to a corner of the basement where a nest had been made of straw and torn paper, and told us to wait there until Signal returned. Some of the other rats came around to talk about the demolition of our building. They had all heard what had happened and wanted to know the cause. Roger was glad to have an audience, and what he didn’t know he made up. The crust of bread disappeared from the story and instead he created a fantastic tale. “I knew I had to get him out of there, but he wouldn’t move. So I called him names to make him mad. ‘Fat tail,’ I said. ‘Cheese brain! Mousie! Cat meat!’ That worked. He lost his temper and ran after me. Before we had reached the corner of the street—boom!”

  The young Railway rats were impressed. Roger didn’t know I was listening, nor did I bother to correct him. I was tending our ratlets, who were restless and wanting to play, and I was also turning a question over in my mind. Why did my beautiful Retsina know so much about the Railway rat colony under the train station? She was right about it being safe, but it was not a quiet place. Trains coming and going caused much noise and vibration, as did the feet of humming beans over our heads.

  About mid-sunrise a brown and white rat came through the pipe with a string between his teeth. He jumped down, pulled on the string and a black bag plopped down after him. It contained food for the young rats—small segments of pizza. Even at a distance, I could smell tomato and cheese.

  Retsina walked slowly over to him. “Hello, Signal.”

  He was distributing the pizza, but when he heard her voice, he dropped the bag. “You!” he said.

  “Yes, me,” she replied, smiling.

  I must say I found it all somewhat confusing. Clearly Retsina and this brown and white rat knew each other, but she had never mentioned him to me. She brought him over to meet me and our ratlets. “This is my friend, Signal,” she said.

  Friend? I looked at his dark eyes, one circled with white fur, the other with brown, and my whiskers twitched. He was much too handsome to be a friend. He was also an educated rat. He knew everythi
ng about a night train that would begin our journey to Ratenburg. “It goes north-east. You will stay on the train until the final stop tomorrow morning. After that you will need to travel on paw. But be very careful. The way to the mountains is treacherous.”

  “We’re not afraid,” said Alpha with great confidence.

  Signal looked at her. “You’re like your mother,” he said. “You have her courage.”

  Delta had worked out the mathematics of time and train speed. “Going by rail will save us five days of walking, but where do we go after that? There are no maps to Ratenburg.”

  “That is correct.” Signal nodded. “Ratenburg is in a valley between two mountains, and we don’t know its exact location. But we do have a map that will take you to the first mountain range. After that, you follow a track.” He looked over his shoulder. “Shunter?” he called.

  The grey-whiskered rat came forward.

  “Bring our map,” said Signal.

  Shunter disappeared for a moment, then returned with a roll of paper in his mouth. When he put it down and pawed it flat, I saw that it was a label peeled off a tin of baked beans. Beneath faded letters was an equally faded picture of orange beans with a slice of meat resembling bacon. If this was a map, then it was in some kind of code.

  “Turn it over,” Signal said.

  Shunter flicked the paper over and my heart leapt, for indeed this was a detailed map drawn in charcoal on the back of an ordinary label. It showed a line from the end of the railway tracks to the foothills of the mountain range. Somewhere beyond that we would find the valley where a new life lay in the city of Ratenburg. We crowded around the map and Delta wanted to know what the scale was.

  “I don’t know,” Signal replied. “I’ve never travelled this road. The way has been memorised by Railway rats from one generation to another. My grandfather knew his letters and was able to put his memory on this paper. I can’t give you the map. You will have to put every detail into your memories, if you want to know the way.”

  Retsina placed her paw over mine and I saw that her eyes were shining. “We can do this, Spinnaker.”

  Now I knew why she had brought us to the den of the Railway rats. She’d known this map existed!

  Signal said, “I remind you that I can’t let you take this map with you. We don’t allow it out of sight. I suggest you try to remember not only the geographical details, but the risks involved. Remember that you’re in human land until you get to the mountains, but humans are not the only enemy. Every place has its dangers. The train tracks finish at a town called Sunsweep, situated on the shore of a long, narrow lake of the same name. It would be easy enough for a rat to swim across the lake, if it weren’t for the giant eels. No rat in that water ever gets to the other side. You’ll need to find some safe way of crossing the lake.”

  He then pointed to the other charcoal marks on the back of the baked beans label. Some details were smudged, but he had them in his mind. I knew I also had to remember every word. I told our ratlets to be sure to listen to Uncle Signal. They nodded their little heads and squirmed closer to the map. My beautiful Retsina had her ears and eyes alert, but I wondered why she needed to be so close to that brown and white rat. Did she have difficulty hearing?

  There was much distraction. The ground shook and another train roared into the station. The clatter of feet sounded like the rain on the tin roof of an attic I once lived in, but when the noise passed, Signal resumed his instruction. “On the other side of the lake is a farming area known as Sweet Clover Meadows. Corn and barley are grown here, but don’t be fooled by a land of plenty. No rats live in the area. Why? Because the humans are hunters and have many dogs that run free during the day to protect the town. That means you can only travel through this area at night.”

  Signal moved his paw. Further on was Bottomless Bog, a dangerous swamp. After that came the Forest of Perilous Pines, a woodland concealing a deadly threat. This was the nesting place of blue-tailed song hawks that ate small animals. “Here too,” said Signal, “you must travel at night when they are asleep.” His paw moved again. Grissenden was a humming-bean village where traps and poison were laid for rats passing through. “Don’t eat any food you see in that place.” Then, near the foot of the mountains was a swing bridge over a deep ravine with a fierce flowing river at the bottom. Signal explained: “The bridge has wooden planks on ropes, arranged as steps for human feet. The gaps between the steps are a danger for rats. If you leap across and slip, you will fall to your death in the river.”

  Delta leaned over the map. “How do you know all this?”

  “It’s ancestral knowledge.”

  “Yes, but how did they know?” Delta asked.

  “Ah!” Signal flicked his tail as though to begin an important story. “A thousand full moons ago, there was a rat who was half Stable clan—he lived with horses—and half Water rat. He got as far as the swing bridge where he slipped and fell into the river. Having Water rat instincts, he was a remarkable swimmer. The river carried him in a great long curve, right back to Sunsweep Lake. It was this rat who handed down the memory. Now you know why the map stops at the swing bridge. We have no information for the mountains.”

  With the map still in front of us, I lined up the ratlets in alphabetical order: my adventurous Alpha, dear little Beta, athletic Gamma and thoughtful Delta. “I want you to remember every detail of one place. Alpha, you take Sunsweep Lake. Beta, you memorise Sweet Clover Meadows. Gamma, yours is Bottomless Bog, and Delta, the Forest of Perilous Pines. Retsina, my dear, you are my back-up for the village of Grissenden. As for me, I hope to remember everything, especially the swing bridge.”

  “What about Uncle Roger?” asked Beta, looking towards our companion, who was talking to the Railway rats and showing no interest at all in the map.

  I patted Beta. “Never mind jolly old Uncle Roger. I think he wants to stay here.”

  Delta murmured, “If you ask me, we’d all like him to stay here.”

  “Nobody’s asking you, Delta,” said Alpha. “Remember that Uncle Roger saved Papa’s life.”

  I could but sigh, for what she said was true.

  My desire to be rid of the pesky Roger was thwarted, for after the map had been rolled and taken away, and after several trains had come and gone, he grew tired of talking and came back to the nest in the corner for a nap. “Must get ready for the great journey,” he said, choosing the softest part of the nest, and folding his front paws over his stomach. He looked so content that I wanted to prod his fat belly, but fathers must set a good example for their children, so I told the ratlets to hush because Uncle Roger was sleeping.

  Late that night, Signal provided us with a meal, more pizza, and then guided us back through the drain pipe. We came up between bars in the grating and waited on the unlit end of the platform, where the last part of the train, the luggage wagon, would stop. “Be careful,” Signal warned. “When the doors open, go to the back of the wagon where the stores are stacked. You don’t want a suitcase thrown on top of you.”

  The train came roaring out of the blackness and we all shrank away from its bright light. Our youngsters had never seen a train so close before. It was as though a tall building had fallen over onto wheels and was rushing to crush us. Even brave Alpha squeaked and jumped behind her mother. As the great engine passed us, it made a windstorm that parted our fur and set our whiskers flat on our faces. Then it was beyond us, and slowing, and we could see humming-bean faces in the windows. It stopped and doors swung open. In front of us was the last carriage. It was the wagon for luggage, and without windows, but it, too, had an open door with steps.

  “Now!” said Signal. “Before the porter gets here with the luggage cart.”

  I glanced along the station. There were humming beans everywhere. Coming through them was a cart stacked with bags.

  “Thank you, Signal,” I said, and quickly helped the ratlets up the steps into the wagon. Roger scrambled after them. When I turned to assist Retsina, I saw that sh
e was licking Signal’s cheek. “Hurry!” I called. “The train will go without you!”

  When we were all inside the luggage wagon, we found a comfortable space between some cardboard cartons. From there, I could see the open door. A humming bean jumped inside and took suitcases from another on the platform. We were safe in the back. I turned to Retsina and whispered, “I didn’t know you were acquainted with the Railway rats.”

  “Didn’t you?” she said, grooming Beta’s wind-muddled fur.

  “No. You forgot to tell me you had a friend called Signal.”

  “I didn’t forget,” she said. “It wasn’t important until we were homeless and I started thinking about Ratenburg.”

  My whiskers twitched. “He seemed a very close friend.”

  “Yes, he was.”

  “And very handsome.”

  Retsina laughed. “Oh Spinnaker! That was long ago, before I met you. You are handsome too, and much nicer! Turn around while I comb your fur. Your back is messy.”

  When she ran her claws down my back, my sensitive whiskers stopped twitching. “Dearest wife, you were wise to think of Ratenburg. I’m sure it was our family star that guided you to the railway station.”

  There was a grunt in the darkness and Roger complained, “Will you two stop talking? I need some sleep.”

  As if in answer, the wagon door slammed shut and a few seconds later the train pulled out of the station.

  We were on our way.

  CHAPTER THREE

  AN UNCOMFORTABLE NIGHT OF SURPRISES